


Cupcakes and Chlorine

by Zoeleo



Series: Rara Avis [9]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Young Justice
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Gen, Or Bruce adopts Jason but doesn't make him Robin, Pool Party, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoeleo/pseuds/Zoeleo
Summary: Dick was determined to throw an honest-to-goodness party at least once this year, so he’d talked Bruce into letting him host one final bash before the summer ended. Jason seemed curious about meeting Dick’s “college” friends and Dick's been dying to introduce his little bro to the team.





	Cupcakes and Chlorine

**Author's Note:**

> I just really needed to write some more fluff. Not beta-ed, so let me know if you see anything that needs to be fixed.

“Alright team! Line up for inspection!” Dick booms in his patented ‘leader’ voice. 

Kaldur stands at attention in the central hub room of Mount Justice. The rest of them… Less so. M’gann is lint-rolling Wolf’s hair off her skirt while a tray of cupcakes levitates to the side. Conner is frowning over his shoulder at Sphere, who keeps bumping into the back of his knees. There’s a gap between Conner and Artemis that’s filled a second later with a rush of air and Wally’s grinning face. Artemis rolls her eyes at her perpetually late speedster boyfriend and shifts her weight impatiently. 

Dick walks down the line. Kaldur is wearing brown contact lenses and a high-necked body glove shirt that hides his gills. Dick nods in approval and moves on.

“M’gann, no telekinesis today. Okay?”

“Oops, _hello Meghan_. Sorry Rob—I mean Night—I mean Dick!” M’gann passes the lint roller to Conner and grabs the cupcakes floating next to her.

“Conner,” he sighs, “What is this?” He gestures to Superboy’s shirt. 

“Uh, a shirt,” Conner answers, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“You—you can’t wear that!” Dick protests.

“Why not?” Superboy glances down at his chest, he tugs the fabric up and sniffs the collar. “It’s clean?”

“Because it’s your uniform! It’s got the ‘S’ on it and everything! You’re supposed to try _not_ to look like you’re Superboy.”

“I wear this to school all the time. No one’s ever said anything.”

“Well, Jason’s smarter than most of the people you go to school with. And this is a deep undercover mission. Go change!” Dick orders, pointing back towards the dormitory area. 

Conner grumbles something under his breath a shade too quiet for Dick to catch, but the tone tells him it’s less than respectful. Dick glares at the back of his head while Conner stalks down the hall until something impacts softly with his shins. Dick looks down.

“Sorry Sphere, but you can’t come. If it makes you feel better, Wolf isn’t coming either. You’re both too hard to explain.”

He pats the bot softly, close to it’s lens. Sphere whirrs softly and rolls dejectedly into the corner of the workshop, red sensor lights dimming. Dick’s lips twist to the side. Maybe he’ll arrange another game of life-size pinball when they return. That’d been a blast, with only minimal injuries. Wally’s broken arm could hardly be counted considering his accelerated healing. 

“So, do I pass your muster?” Artemis asks with a challenging tilt to her head.

Dick hems. He haws. He strokes his chin in consideration. 

“Ehh. I guess. Personally I think a bikini would’ve—oof!”

Dick curls over, winded by a slap to the solar plexus.

“Watchit buddy. No ogling, eyeing, or otherwise objectifying of the girlfriend. Capisce?” Wally growls, wrapping his arm around Artemis’ waist. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dick promises easily while shooting Artemis an overly lascivious wink.

“Gah, enough!” Wally groans, “I hope your brother isn’t anything like you. I don’t have enough hands to fend off two playboys.”

“He just turned thirteen Wally,” Dick rolls his eyes.

“I remember you at thirteen! Putting the moves on Zatanna and—”

Dick cuts him off dismissively, “First of all: Jason isn’t me. Second: I was fourteen, thank you very much. And third: if your relationship with Artemis is threatened by a thirteen year old boy, you don’t deserve her.” He turns to the blonde, “Honestly, Arty I’m surprised you’re still with this moron.”

“Yeah, me too sometimes,” she sighs mournfully, “But then I remember there’s this thing he does with his—”

Dick laughs and throws his hands over his ears. “Oh my god, I do not need to know that! No one here needs to know that. My little brother definitely does not need to know that. New rule for the mission guys,” he raises his voice so it carries throughout the chamber, “Absolutely no canoodling or alluding to canoodling or anything else inappropriate in front of the baby bro! Understood?”

There’s a chorus of facetious ‘aye-ayes’ that border on mocking insubordination.

“Just in front of? Does that mean sneaking behind the pool house is…” Wally waggles his eyebrows mutinously.

“NO!” Dick thunders, but before he can elucidate further Conner struts back in. Dick whips around. “What is that?!” He gesticulates at the black t-shirt with the yellow Batman logo emblazoned across the chest.

“What’s wrong now?” Conner growls, glancing down at the cotton knit in irritation.

“Batman? Seriously?” Dick whines. “Come on man, I’ve worked really hard to convince Jay that Nightwing’s cooler. Don’t you have a Nightwing t-shirt you could wear instead?”

“Why would I have a Nightwing shirt?” Connor asks in genuine bewilderment.

“Why would you have a Batman shirt?” Dick counters.

Connor shrugs. “Because it pisses Clark off.”

Dick deflates. It’s a futile battle. He gives up.

“You know what, whatever. Let’s go before we’re late,” he shakes his head and walks to the garage in defeat.

 

…

 

Dick pulls his Spitfire up the well-manicured drive to the manor. The rest of the team is about five minutes behind him in a pair of artfully dinged-up second-hand Hondas. Dick had wanted to throw Jason a surprise birthday party back in August, bringing his own cache of besties to make up for Jason’s lack there of. Jason doesn’t exactly have friends, and while it doesn’t seem to bother him, Dick still worries. Friendship is an important part of growing up; building lifelong relationships, learning things like empathy and loyalty, and having a support system.

A surprise party would have been the height of excitement for a thirteen year old Dick Grayson, but Alfred had quickly divested Dick of that idea. In retrospect Dick is forced to concede to the old man’s wisdom. Jason already overwhelms easily in unfamiliar social settings. Unexpectedly flooding the manor with strangers would probably not have gone over well with the mercurial boy. 

Instead they’d held a small intimate family affair and celebrated with Jason’s favorite things: a day at the batting cages (he thought Jason’s eyes were going to fall out of his head when Antonio Reyes ‘coincidentally’ dropped by and signed a baseball for him), Neaopolitan sundaes, and lazing on the den floor playing Rogue Squadron. 

Dick was determined to throw an honest-to-goodness party at least once this year though, so he’d talked Bruce into letting him host one final bash before the summer ended. Jason had seemed curious about the opportunity to meet Dick’s “college” friends. He’d been particularly intrigued at the notion of meeting Meghan, who always sent Dick home with cookies to share. 

Based on this alone Meghan would be an instant favorite. Dick predicted that Jason was likely to rib good-naturedly on Wally just as much as Wally would tease him. He'd probably take to Artemis easily, recognizing a fellow Gothamite by her accent, and be awed by Kaldur's tranquil stoicism.

The only one he was in the slightest concerned about was Conner. He would watch them closely. Hopefully, there’d be enough people and activity going on to keep the two surlier individuals from butting heads.

He hasn’t even dropped the kickstand before the manor door opens and Jason is streaking down the front steps. Dick jumps off the bike hurriedly and plants his feet. He’s expecting the regular flying tackle, so when Jason dips just to the side and rams his shoulder into Dick’s stomach then wraps a leg behind his ankle, he’s taken completely by surprise and topples back into the grass. By the time he blinks and opens his mouth, Jason has him in a loose side-control position. Easy to escape from, but Dick stays pinned of his own volition.

“What was that?” he laughs.

“Riley taught me how to do that! I bet you didn’t even see it coming.” 

Jason rocks back on his heels beaming. 

Ah. Riley. Dick has heard stories, but has yet to actually meet the man. He’s not sure how he feels about the situation. He doesn’t disagree with Bruce’s decision to hire a bodyguard for Jason, it’s just… He hadn’t counted on them getting along so well. He’d pictured a stodgy middle-aged man in a suit with his arms crossed in the corner, observing Jason’s antics with professional disinterest. 

But listening to Jason prattle on about their hijinks in their frequent phone conversations, (Riley taught me how to swim, Riley taught me how to throw a curveball, Riley did _this_ , Riley did _that_...) Riley sounds more like... well, another big brother. Dick takes a breath, wishing for the sprout of jealousy latticing up his ribs to wither and die. Jason deserves all the support he gets. Dick shouldn’t begrudge him that. 

“So is Riley here today?” he asks casually, eyes flicking to the manor steps.

“Nah,” Jason wrinkles his nose, “I invited him but his sister just had a baby or something, so he's gone for a couple days.”

Dick can’t decide if he’s relieved or disappointed. One day he’s going to have to actually meet the man, but he’s not going to complain about having a day with his little brother all to himself - Well, maybe not completely to himself... The crunch of gravel beneath tires signals arrival of the pair of hoopties rolling up the drive. The rest of the team has caught up. He plants a hand over Jason’s skull and uses it to push himself up off the ground, messing up Jason’s wild hair even more.

“You need a haircut, Little Wing,” he grins.

He pauses. 

He looks at the angle of his elbow, measures the top of Jason’s head against his own chest. Holy cow, Jason’s grown. At least an inch, maybe two, in the past couple months. He’s filling out too, there’s a healthy layer of muscle over his bones that wasn’t there before. 

“You’re getting taller! At this rate you’ll be as big as Bruce one day,” Dick jokes.

He tries to imagine Jason big, hulking, and brooding. He can’t. He bites down on his lip to keep from laughing at the comical image and musses Jason’s hair even more. Jason swats his hand away and glares at him.

“Stop it, Dick!” he hisses, eyes cutting to Artemis and Meghan as they climb out of the cars.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Dick asks blithely, flopping Jason’s curls down over his eyes, blinding him.

“Dick! Don’t! _Not in front of the girls_ ,” Jason wheedles. 

“Oh! You said you want to meet the girls? Okay! Hey Meghan, Artemis! Jason wants to meet you!” Dick shouts loudly across the lawn.

Jason turns a brilliant shade of red. Yes, this big brother thing is endlessly amusing. Dick is doing such a good job.

“Meghan, Artemis, this is my little brother, Jason. Jason these are my friends Meghan and Artemis,” he shoves Jason forward. 

Jason stumbles a step forward. He tries to comb his hair back out of his face, and frowns when his fingers get tangled in the mess. He jerks his hand free and holds it out, eyes on the ground. Dick has seen Jason sullen, suspicious, and sarcastic but he’s never seen his little brother _shy_. And oh god, it’s too precious for words, he almost squeaks at the sight. 

Artemis takes his hand and gives it a solid shake. “Nice to finally meet you, Jason. Dick talks about you all the time. It’s good he’s got someone to keep him in line.”

Meghan bypasses the handshake and goes straight for a hug. “Oh my gosh you’re so adorable! Even cuter in person! Did you get the cookies I sent with Dick or did he eat them all? Oh! I forgot the cupcakes are still in the trunk!”

If Jason was pink before his face is blazing fire truck red now. His teeth bite into his lower lip, clearly unsure of what to do with the fact that his face is directly at breast level. He starts to look back to Dick for help when a single word captures his attention.

“Cupcakes?” he asks with interest.

 

…

 

Really, it’s a miracle no one died, Dick thinks later. He’ll have to thank Meghan – he’s sure he caught her using her telekinesis at least once to keep Jason from slipping and cracking his skull while he ran around the pool’s edge with a super-soaker hollering like a loon. And then he’ll have to ream Conner out for encouraging Jason to run around the pool’s edge with a super-soaker hollering like a loon. 

His fears they wouldn’t get along had been completely unfounded. Jason had been instantly impressed with Conner’s utter disdain for Dick and Wally’s chipper attitudes, and Jason’s natural mischievousness appealed to Conner’s inner biological five-year old. They had formed a lethal alliance and launched a prank war that quickly spiraled out of control. 

Now that the others have returned to Mount Justice, Dick takes in the damage. The manor grounds eerily recall the smoldering remains of an abandoned battlefield. The surface of the water sits a few inches lower in the pool, so much has been splashed out. Stripes of mustard and ketchup paint the lawn and hedges from where the food-fight broke out. Several potted topiaries are toppled, dirt spilled across the deck, by errant bocce balls. Two popped floats are lying at the bottom of the deep end, and there’s a hotdog swirling in the eddies of the pool jets.

Bruce sits next to him in a lounger shamelessly gulping down a clear liquor Dick doesn’t recognize while recovering from the trauma. Dick wishes the lemonade in his hands was a Mike’s hard. Jason lies several feet away sprawled over a nest of beached pool noodles and floats. There’s pink icing smeared over his cheek and nose, black lines up and down his arms. Dick’s spine prickles and he straightens up.

“Jason, what are you doing?”

Jason shrugs, sharpie in hand. 

“Drawing. Kaldur’s tattoos are badass. I want some.” Jason looks over to Bruce, “Hey Dad, can I get a tattoo for Christmas?”

Dick turns to take in Bruce’s reaction. It’s locked in a perfect rigor mortis of shock and horror. 

“Hell no,” Bruce swears and finishes his glass. He points at Dick. “This is your fault. I swear to god Dick, if he ever comes home after hanging out with you and your friends with a tattoo… I am holding you accountable.”

Dick splutters at the unfairness.

“Don’t even,” Bruce cuts him off, “pretend. I know about that souvenir from your trip to Miami last year.”

Dick gulps, hand subconsciously drifting to the tiny heart on his inner thigh with his and Batgirl’s initials; _NW + BG._

“No more tattoos in this family,” Bruce’s voice dips into a threatening growl.

Dick gulps. 

He'd forgotten about the stressful part of being a big brother.


End file.
